Two Minutes
by LaceyBird
Summary: Because there are so many ways that first kiss could have happened... Based during ep4 - between receiving the ring from Smurf and the mission briefing. Please read and review!


**AN: I just want to take the time to say a massive thank you to everyone that reads and reviews my stories! I wish I had the time to reply to you all, but unfortunately I only have the time to either reply or write - and I think I know which you'd prefer!**

 **So this is a quick one-shot...based during episode 4, some time between Molly receiving the ring from Smurf and the mission briefing.**

 **Because there are so many ways that 'first kiss' could have happened...**

 **Please read and Review!**

 **As always, much love,**

 **Lacey**

 **xx**

* * *

 **Two Minutes**

Though the sun has fallen below the horizon hidden beyond the compound walls, casting the last remnants of an orange-red hue over the darkening, cloudless sky, Molly finds there is little reprieve from the stifling heat that festers throughout the day. She's sitting, alone, behind the medical supplies hut, back resting against the warm metal as she peers down at the diamond encrusted ring held between her two fingers, the largest of the stones twinkling in the soft glow of the sunset. It's beautiful, there's no denying it, but the guilt that gnaws at Molly's insides reminds her that it's not her ring to take, that she's accepted it for the wrong reasons, even if she hadn't any intentions of slipping it onto her finger. She vows, silently, as she pushes the ring into her pocket, to hand the piece back as soon as they're back at Brize Norton, home safe and well.

Molly tilts her face towards the sky, closing her eyes, an attempt to absorb the last, retreating rays of the day. The blades of a chinook cut through the air above her, disturbing Molly's brief moment of peace and solace, and her eyes follow the large machine as it comes to land somewhere to the East, falling out of sight, a short distance from the camp's hospital.

"Dawes."

Molly startles, her head snapping to the left, hand automatically falling to the ground at her side, seeking a rifle that isn't there. Her eyes connect with Captain James, the lack of sunlight casting shadows over his chiselled face, darkening the day old stubble, and she releases a relieved huff of air.

"Bloody hell, Sir," she scolds, hand flying to her chest, can feel her heart pounding against sternum.

"Sorry," he immediately says, holding his hands up apologetically.

"S'alright," Molly shrugs in an attempt to appear nonchalant, tearing her gaze from him to concentrate on her fiddling fingers in her lap, watching the way they link and unlink, taking special attention to pushing the cuticles of her nails back.

"I came to find you. There's a mission briefing at -"

"I know," she cuts him off, flicking her eyes up to his. "I heard." And she doesn't need to say any more, because they both know _how_ she knows about the briefing already; it's not like they'll forget the whole situation in a hurry.

"Right," Capt. James nods, awkwardly, before looking off to the western sky, where the shadow of the approaching nightfall has all but drowned the warm, evening glow.

Molly waits for him to retreat, to return to whatever he was doing before he'd decided to track her down – and it doesn't take a genius to work out that he's managed to get her newest favourite hiding place from Smurf – but he doesn't. He stays, standing in her peripheral, and she wants to order him to leave – her, the army – but she doesn't. Instead, she pulls herself to her feet, brushing the dust and grit from her arse as she moves.

"Well, I'm gonna go-" she starts to say, jerking a thumb over her shoulder as she takes a couple of steps back, because, though he's her C.O, she's not about to let him ruin her again. He may be the master of playing hot and cold, but she's the god damn ice queen.

"I don't know what you want from me."

The way he says it, so reserved and calm, set's Molly's teeth on edge, has her feet halting on the dry ground, scuffing against dirt, heart stuttering in her chest. Her eyes find his, and his brow dips, as if he's pained, and she wants to tell him to stop, _just stop_ , because _he_ is the one that crossed the line first, with his stupid Rosabaya request and a promise of always, _he_ is the one that's married, _with kids_. Not her.

"What I want?" Her eyebrows shoot up, her eyes studying him, his features, and she folds her arms across her body defensively. She doesn't know how to answer that, because she doesn't know herself. She hadn't given it much thought; what they'd do about the attraction they obviously both felt, outside of Afghanistan. Brize Norton seemed so far away, a dream that's out of reach. She takes a breath, shrugs one shoulder. "I want two minutes."

Capt. James' brow creases, eyes narrow in confusion. "Two minutes?"

"Yep," Molly nods. "I want to be able to stop time, and have two minutes where you ain't married, or my boss. Where I don't have to worry about poxy regulations, or ruining my career. I just want two fucking minutes where we are free to just be _us_ , where we can be open and honest with each other without worrying what other people will think." Molly sighs, unfolds an arm so she can rub at her eye, before returning her attention to Capt. James.

His face is almost completely shadowed, the moonlight casting just enough glow to highlight cheek bones, the bridge of his nose, his forehead. His eyes stay protected by the dark, unreadable, and Molly takes a step towards him, finds stormy irises watching her. His mouth is set in a hard line, slanting slightly, brows pulling together just enough to place a deep crease between them. He's angry, she knows; angry at her, at himself, at the situation, at his damned life, and she regrets having said anything. A few seconds of stagnant silence pass, the bustle of Camp Bastion already dying down for the night, and then he heaves a lungful of air, and says, barely above a whisper,

"Okay."

Molly blinks. "Okay?"

Capt. James contemplates her for another second, before jerking his head once, an affirmative, before stepping forward, almost closing the distance between them.

"You get two minutes," he confirms, his voice dropping, deep and gritty, and his eyes are flicking all over her face, drinking her in. "Completely free."

"No consequences?" Molly's heart stutters, her mouth dries, because she hadn't expected this - for her Captain to give her what she's asked for – and she doesn't even know what to do with two-friggin-minutes.

Captain James shakes his head, and he's so close, Molly can smell the last, subtle notes of aftershave mixed with dust and sweat. "Like it never happened." A promise.

"Okay," Molly breathes, her heart pounding against her sternum, and she swallows audibly, nervous and excited, and her arms unfold, dropping, hands slapping noisily against her camo's.

They stand, unmoving, as they both come to terms with the agreement they've made, their gaze holding steady, breath quickening as the air between them seems to warm, gradually growing hotter with each second ticking by.

He lifts a hand, pressing it against the soft skin of her neck, his calloused thumb tentatively stroking her jawline, and despite the suffocating heat of the Afghan evening, Molly's skin breaks out in goosebumps. He leans forward, his lips an inch from hers, and stills, and Molly isn't breathing, because she just can't. It's been weeks, months, of tension, longing looks and fighting their feelings, and now suddenly, at a simple request she hadn't expected to be granted, they're standing here, letting all of it go, crossing the line that should never be crossed.

She wants to just lean in, close the remaining space between them, to press her mouth onto his, to just finalise this moment, to make it all a fleeting reality. But the hesitancy is there, because though she'd sworn there'd be no consequences, that they'd just forget this moment and move on, like it had never happened, Molly isn't sure she can actually promise that.

His gaze, intense and fiery, drops from her eyes to her mouth, and she self-consciously flicks a tongue across her lips to moisten them, and it's like an invitation, because then he's dipping his head and pressing his mouth onto hers.

Time stops.

He pulls away, a hairs breadth of space between them, breath fanning across her lips, into her mouth, and it dawns on Molly, for the most fleeting of moments, that this is all new for Captain James, too. He's crossing the line _with_ her, _for_ her, disrespecting the regulations he's followed and respected for years, is betraying his love for the Army. It's the realisation that pushes her to reach up and connect their mouths again.

The kiss is firm, his lips sliding against hers, slowly, carefully, savouring the moment. Despite the hours they spend in the desert sun, his lips are moist, soft, a stark contrast to he rough, day-old stubble shadowing his face and grazing her chin. She eases her body into him, gently resting her palms against his sculpted chest, can feel his heart _thrum-thrumming_ beneath her fingers as she parts her lips slightly. He exhales, hard, like the damn of his willpower has just broke. He slides his tongue into her mouth, heavily, smoothly, and he's everywhere; she can taste him, smell him, feel him, the warmth of his body as he leans into her.

She hadn't allowed herself to picture this moment too often, but when she did, she hadn't ever imagined it would have played out like this. She'd always imagined it to be urgent, desperate, rough. Not so slow, and sweet, so passionate and full of so much emotion it makes her knees weak and body tremble.

She moves her mouth with his, in perfect synchronisation, trying to consume as much of him as she can, to try and prolong the two minutes he'd granted her. He makes a noise – not a moan, not a gasp, but something in between – a guttural noise that clenches her stomach in anticipation and sends a warmth spreading between her legs.

"Mols, are you back there?" Smurf's distant voice is like an electric shock, and suddenly Captain James is pulling away, leaping back to place a couple of feet between himself and Molly. They breath in unison, synchronised pants, as they try to regain control of their bodies, their emotions. Molly swallows, her green eyes locking with smouldering chestnut pupils, and her heart wont stop pounding.

"You had two minutes," Captain James says, his voice deep, hushed, and there's something etched into his irises that Molly doesn't recognise.

"It wasn't long enough," she replies, softly, desperately. "I want days, weeks, months." _A lifetime._

"We promised," he reminds her, brows twitching, lips pulling downwards slightly, and she doesn't know what to say to him, because she doesn't know how he can kiss her _like that_ , steal every last piece of her soul, and then just pretend like it never happened, like they don't set each other on fire in a totally good way.

"Molly?" Smurf's voice is louder, closing in, accompanied with heavy footfalls, boots grinding dirt and sand.

"Boss..." Molly begins, quietly, but he's stepping back, shrinking away, disappearing as he rounds the far corner.

"There you are," Smurf says, startling Molly into spinning on her feet, seemingly oblivious to her pounding heart, to her swollen lips, to her stomach clenching down low. "Didn't you hear me calling you?"

"Uh, yeah," Molly nods, smoothing back loose strands of hair that have fallen from her braid. "Sorry."

"C'mon, mission briefing in ten," he says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "You ready?"

"Yeah," Molly nods, wiping a hand over her mouth, where she can still taste her Captain. "Yeah, let's go."

And just like that, time starts again.


End file.
